


No Time For Victims, No Mercy For Villains

by Middeer (Cryptic)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil (Movieverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Albert Wesker Lives, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Blood, Blood Kink, Clothed Sex, Deepthroating, Gunplay, Handcuffs, Kissing, M/M, Oneshot, Oral Sex, Rape, Reader has a penis but no pronouns are used, Restraints, Rough Sex, Violence, post RE5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptic/pseuds/Middeer
Summary: It has been a very busy time for the agents of the B.S.A.A, but once the number one enemy of your organization is finally captured, it's only a matter of time until he's finally placed into proper custody and the world is once more kept safe from his twisted experiments and ruthless views on society.For the time being, you are the agent assigned to keep an eye on the bio-terrorist until proper transport can be arranged, transport to bring him back to the United States for judgement. You've never quite gotten a good look at the man before, but after so long spent in the dim room with only each other for company, something clicks within you. A sort of... realization.This was such a lovely opportunity for revenge, wasn't it?





	

There were many missions that you were not entirely fond of as a seasoned agent of the B.S.A.A, but of all the scenarios you’ve been in, dangerous persons you were forced to lock your gaze and gun upon, this was by far the most discomforting assignment you had ever had.

It was not unlike missions you’ve had before, the objective of guarding of an unstable man, but who exactly this was… it made it difficult to treat this as just another task, back pressed firm against the wall with hand locked firm to your pistol grips. Your breathing was steady, with slow inhales, slow exhales, but there was a sort of anxiety bubbling within your chest, an anxiety that was difficult to ignore and made your grip just a tad tenser than normal.

The man picked up on it, with little else to focus on in the blank concrete cell. Youur actions were also not entirely subtle, adding to your speculations, but his shaded expression was difficult to discern. 

The man… 

Albert Wesker, known bioterrorist and a man likely facing execution or lifetime imprisonment, sat as calmly in the room as if he’d been casually invited there. His chest barely seemed to move as he breathed, gaze locked forward behind those darkened glasses of his. On the rare occasions he shifted, made the slightest movement to increase his comfort as much as possible (as was likely difficult due to his hands being cuffed behind him as they were), your own chest tightened and your posture straightened, gun withdrawn halfway from its holster before he settled once more, his thin lips locked into the barest hint of a smirk.

Damned, awful man - he toyed with you even without intention, and his sheer confidence in the face of his globally-devastating career’s end was infuriating. One might typically show defeat, or humility, knowing that they’d finally been captured and restrained.

Him, however?

No, he almost seemed _amused_. Amused by the sheer audacity of humanity, their arrogance towards his immense, unnatural strength and power. The man was a _“god”_ within his own psyche, a god among oceans of mortality, and even if he had been temporarily weakened by the actions of your fellow agents, he knew that it was only a matter of time before his body recovered from the overdose of serum flowing through his veins. His heart pumped rapidly, forcing the excess through arteries and capillaries with incessant force to rid his body of the poison - and this was exactly why he needed to be put into proper captivity as soon as possible.

One agent was hardly anything in the face of such raw, viral strength, and Wesker knew it. Forces strewn so thin, it would only be a matter of time before his strong hands regained the power they needed to rip your thin flesh to shreds.

The thought was terror-inducing; horrid, monstrous appendages ripping through your chest, tearing through your armor like sodden tissue, healing from frantic bullet wounds as if a weak slap to the cheek. His experiments slaughtered and mutated so many of your kin, actions that he held not even an ounce of remorse towards, no remorse whatsoever towards his enemies no matter how brutal the method of disposal. This frightened you, _he_ frightened you, but you would not allow this to show, steadying yourself no matter what emotion coursed through your form. Wesker was too weak now to show you the most grievous of harm, face pale and muscles weakened from the chemicals battling his viral infection. Your fear was unwarranted at this very moment, as the poisoned man was no match for a bullet, no matter what he had previously survived.

No, there was no way he could stand against you in his current state, that much was obvious… This was the mantra you repeated, no matter how ridiculous it might have sounded outside the walls of your own mind. You swallowed thickly, throat contracting before you could restrict the noise, and at that moment, Wesker’s head turned the fraction it required to face you, lips contorted in what you would swear was the devilish hint of a smirk.

“You are frightened.” His lips parted for the first time in the span of time you had been assigned to watch him, and your expression immediately hardened, throat locking tight with refusal to submit to what truth his words held.

“Quiet. You've got no clearance to speak.” 

No, don’t respond to him, you told yourself. Listen to your own words, and be as still as possible.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.” His chin lifted, an obvious gesture of superiority despite his defeat. His gloved fingers flexed behind him, and you wondered for the first time how exactly his raiment looked so pristine. Was he not previously dumped into molten magma? Had he been given the time to change his ruined suit, or had he simply made sure he didn’t look like an utter mess upon capture? Was he truly that vain?

It would hardly surprise you if that happened to be the case, in all honesty.

“You are delaying the inevitable, as your kind is always apt to do.” His deep, guttural voice is a wholly unwanted sound, but your tense shoulders and withering stare only spurs him on to speak further, growling chuckle prefacing his words. “The project has only been delayed, not stopped. It will only be a matter of time now until this world falls to the virus, no matter how you attempt to restrain me.”

A sharp, tight breath is released from your lungs. “Does the right to remain silent not mean anything to you? You’re not gaining anything from this. Be quiet.”

Wesker grins, but it’s a gesture far from friendly. His smile is all teeth with nothing else to lighten the expression, eyes obscured as they are. “Am I not? Is your organization truly this arrogant, convinced of my… _weakness_? Leaving one timid agent to attempt and restrain me? Have you none other to spare?”

“Are you really one to talk about being arrogant?” Your burning stare permeates into his shaded eyes, the barest hint of a glow flashing behind the reflective surface. You can see your own displeasure in the dark shine, and though you keep telling yourself not to respond to the man’s jabs, the words slipped out with none of your consent. “All this _global domination_ bullshit, and you’re calling _us_ arrogant?”

“No matter your bravado, you’ve not long until I recover, and everything your organization stands for will be seen washed down the drain.” 

Your teeth are momentarily bared in a scowl, but you force yourself not to respond, seemingly learning your lesson. This man wanted a battle of wits, as his body was not capable of any other sort of war, but you were no longer going to humor his boredom. 

Wesker’s irritating grin had finally slipped away once you fell silent, but his usual calm, calculating nature had taken its place, seeming to read each movement of your body. He wanted your fight, your mind to toy with until he made his escape from custody. What else had he to do, cuffed and bored? Manipulation was his favorite game, and his lips twitched.

“Every little move I make, I can see just how tense your limbs become.”

You fight the crick in your shoulders.

“You’ve been on the field, seen firsthand just how much damage I can cause, and yet you pretend to not be perturbed by me? Everything you’ve to stand for, you know you will watch slip away in due time,”

Your gaze fixates on the wall behind Wesker’s head, a blank grey slate. He couldn’t get beneath your skin if you didn’t allow him to. There was nothing he knew about you, nothing personal he could dig at with his poisonous grip. This was a different sort of firefight, and he had no ammunition.

There was nothing he had to use. His tongue was his best weapon, the one he had left, but he’d nothing he could -

“And I will personally oversee the death and transformation of everyone in this organization you care for, no matter how hard you fight against fate - ”

… 

You’d hardly even registered your legs moving, your pistol snatched from the holster and the barrel colliding with his cheek, metal drawn across his lips as the flesh split beneath the force of blunt steel. Pure, raw anger seeped through your limbs, and there was nothing more you wanted than for this man to _shut his damn_ **_mouth_**.

Wesker seemed dazed from the unexpected hit, sunglasses knocked askew on his face and leaving a red, catlike eye in plain view, half-lidded before it shut and he gave his head a calibrating shake. Dark blood dribbled down his chin from the split in his lower lip, filling his mouth before he turned and spat out the warm liquid that gathered on his tongue. For how rough the hit had been, he recovered quickly, and you took this as a product of the virus he had pumping from his heart, scowling as his bloodied lips turned into a mirthless smile.

“Really now,” He began, tongue flicking out to lick away the warm copper on his skin. “Is that all it takes for you to lose your temper? A few personal words?”

A growl slips from your throat, and before you can stop them, strong hands grip to Wesker’s suit, nails digging into the pristine, slick covering, upper body angled up towards you as he regards you with something between intrigue and amusement. While you had many words jumbled within your mouth, tied around your tongue as you wondered which curse to spit first, something stilled the muscle within your jaw before any could slip out.

Though it sickened you to admit, there was something that drew your eyes straight to Wesker’s crimson lips once callously injured, stained with the same blood that was splattered across the barrel of your gun. They had suddenly turned downwards once he realized exactly where your stare was fixated, a frown that questioned your actions and only became more puzzled as your cheeks flushed pink. You’ve no idea what suddenly overcame you, but the sight of his wounded lips, white skin streaked with red… 

“What are you -”

He had hardly gotten out the words before the rest of his sentence is swallowed with a grunt against your flesh, parted lips captured in a fierce kiss that tasted of iron and sick, sudden lust. His head jerked back the moment your mouth neared his, but his head was already so near the wall behind him that he had nowhere to move from your unexpected behavior, a firm grip clasped to his shirt that kept his writhing torso from escaping to either side. 

Your mouth only removed itself from his after a near minute spent tasting what you could of his maw, tongue lapped over his lips and chin, licking up the filthy, viral blood that began to travel down underneath his chin to the pale flesh of his neck. For once, he appeared stunned into silence, muscles only reacting to try and wrench themselves from your sensual, aggressive touch. It was ultimately for not, and his temporary weakness made it possible, even if not entirely _easy_ , to hold him in place as you forced your mouth back against his, face turning to try and part his lips as your teeth clicked uncomfortably against his. It was an unpleasant sensation, but one that you quickly shook off once your tongue slid past his clenched barricade of bone.

A sharp pain shot through your jaw almost immediately after your temporary success, and it took your hands scrabbling up and wrenching his chin down to release the slimy muscle, teeth having sunk into your tongue the very second it invaded his mouth. He growled once released, your hand momentarily pressed over your mouth in pain as your own wound entered the hellish mixture of saliva and warm blood that coated your tongue. It stung horribly, and you reiterated then that he had certainly not lost all his strength, evident by the fierce struggle he put against you the minute you crushed your flesh against his. Another second of delay, and he likely would have bitten your tongue right off.

“You fucking -” The words are spat from your lips as Wesker spat his own lack of them, a copious amount of blood puddling on the floor affront him as he allowed it to drain from his mouth. His teeth are stained a wet red, and his sunglasses had slipped entirely from his eyes and tumbled to the ground during the aggressive exchange, leaving his vivid anger at his assault in plain view.

“ **Don’t touch me**.” His words are spat out with another mouthful of blood, a fierce demand accentuated with his blazing glare. It was such a sudden change, his calm demeanor instantly shattered from the unwanted sexual contact. 

It was… arousing. His anger, his tense body, the reddened fluid dripping down his chin… 

You felt dizzy, and just not due to your own loss of blood. The warm, wet mixture is swallowed, the idea of your blood mixing with Wesker’s an illicit thrill that sent a fire straight into your lower belly. A soft pant rushes from your throat, Wesker’s angered eyes never leaving your tense, flushed body. 

You never imagined you’d see such a man in the state he now appeared, but his rigid shoulders told you just how wary he suddenly was, hit with the realization that he was indeed in quite the vulnerable state, his little game now turned against him. He was far from helpless, of course - the struggle you had in keeping him still enough to kiss told you that. However, he had absolutely none of the unnatural power nor the weapons he had become accustomed to. 

If you wanted… you could do whatever you wished to him. You could take your revenge for the atrocities he committed against your coworkers and workplace family, professionalism be damned.

He knew this, and he knew you were aware as well.

There was no inner debate required, no bother taken to sling the blood away from your bare fingers as your hands firmly grasped his chin, pressed back against the cold wall as he struggled to wrench away from your grip. A growl of your own is given to his disobedience, and you tilt his head forward before smashing it back against the wall, a firm _CRACK_ echoing through the room as his eyes snapped shut in a temporary daze. Your blood smears against his cheek from your fingertips, nails dug into his flesh and leaving crescent-shaped wounds on his paled skin. It was so much softer than you had imagined, just as soft as his lips had felt against yours, smooth and wet. There was no roughness of stubble beneath your palms, and your grip tightened as he recovered from his dazed state, a thin line of blood beginning to trickle from one nostril. The hit seemed to have rattled his head quite effectively, and your tongue lapped over the droplet of crimson liquid as it touched his upper lip, Wesker’s nose crinkling in a way that showed evident disgust for your actions.

If only he knew just how far you wished to take it - he might have saved such a look for later. For the time being, remembering the fierce bite that had earlier clamped against your tongue, your grip traced down to firmly grip his jaw, pulling his mouth open and making it that much harder for him to bite you. His wrists strained and pulled against the cuffs locking his arms behind him, wound through the back of the chair he sat on with metal legs chained to the concrete floor. You almost smiled at his defiance, the fight that never left his limbs. 

You were in control now, and he _hated_ it.

Tongue likely safe from another bite, still bloodied and sore from his earlier aggression, you held his head as still as possible as the muscle slid back past his teeth, a noise of disgust made deep in his throat as it moved over his own with a frenzied lust. You mashed your lips against his with fevered movement, the sounds of blood and saliva disgustingly wet as the mixture slid down the curve of his and your chins. 

Wesker never stopped attempting to pull away from you, jaw straining with fight to release itself from your hold, but this only succeeded in turning you on even more, chest pressing against his as you balanced a knee atop his thigh. Distracted as you are, it gave him the opening he required to swing up his free leg and kick your opposite knee with impressive force, and you grunted with pain into his mouth, nearly stumbling before finally pulling away with harsh pants puffed from both of your lips.

It was only then that you realized you hadn’t ever stopped or pulled away to breathe, and had been effectively suffocating Wesker with the rough, manhandling kiss, rough gasps pulling air into his tightened lungs. A string of blood and saliva still connected your tongues together, and you automatically leaned forward to give his wounded lips one more lick, tongue sliding over his as you clamped his jaw and cheeks tight with your hand, forcing it out far enough to allow the contact.

“H-hah, f-fuck…” The panted words quietly escaped your lips, and your tongue slid over the flesh to remove the fluids that painted them a vivid red. 

Wesker’s face was deeply flushed, but it was not at all like yours, tinted with desire and arousal. No, his was pure anger and exertion, as well as from the unintended choking you had temporarily put him through, tongue pressed so eagerly past his lips that he had gagged from it flicking against his uvula. 

His gag reflex was rather strong, wasn’t it? A thought flittered through your head, one that traveled straight to the straining tent in your pants. 

You’d already gone this far… why not further? 

After all, Wesker’s pride was far too strong, and he wasn’t going to tell a soul about this, about the abuse inflicted upon his body that he did not hold the strength to fight away.

His snarl is what snapped you from your inner monologue, his refusal to drop the amount of fight he still held. He wasn’t about to become your bitch so easily, was he?

You smiled, and he continued to pull and strain against the cuffs locking his wrists in place, keeping him from putting up any real sort of fight. Poor bastard, thinking that this was all you were about to do to him - or, that was what you assumed of his current thought process.

It must have changed quickly, once his gaze followed your hands to your belt, widened just a fraction as he caught deft fingers undoing the buckle, as well as the sizable bulge beneath it.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” His deep growl of a voice echoed through the room, having risen a good decibel or so with the realization of where you just might intend to put the organ you began to free from your trousers, button opened and zipper slid down to release your hardened erection to the open air. A drop of precum already moistened the tip, evidence of the arousal you’d garnered whilst mauling Wesker’s mouth with your own. His lips still dripped blood, healing factor obviously slowed by the overdose traveling through his veins, and you couldn’t wait to bury your cock past such a wet and blood-stained maw, stepping close with the organ bobbing only a few inches from his face. Wesker’s head jerked to the side, lips pulled as far away from your crotch as possible before your hand comes forward in a harsh slap to his cheek, flesh bruising almost immediately as your hand clasps around his jaw in the same grip you’d previously held him with.

“This has gone far enough, now **stop** -” His words are growled through clenched teeth but ultimately ignored, gradually pried open with your hands as a thumb forced its way into his mouth and parted his jaws. The other hand steadied your cock, tip pressed firm against the corner of his lips while he attempted to keep it far from its target. This does nothing but both amuse and irritate you, and it takes nothing but a forcible turn off Wesker's head and a sharp snap of your hips to break through his defiance, burying the first few inches of cock inside his mouth. A pleasured groan escaped your lips the minute it entered such lovely, wet warmth, lusts kindled bright with the pleasure enticing each and every nerve.

Wesker’s eyes snapped open wide, the thick girth of your member spreading his jaws apart, teeth attempting to instinctively snap shut and mutilate the intrusion past his lips. More thankfully for you than him, your grip kept his teeth away from the sensitive flesh, continuous rocking of your hips forcing more and more of the thick length inside the warmth of his mouth. 

“Sorry, were you saying something?” The mocking words slip out before you can anticipate them, a bit of retaliation to all the irritating phrases of his that you had suffered through previous to this little… turn of events. His gaze snapped up to yours with a burning anger, one that made your cock throb against his tongue, and his head yanked back as best it could with obvious repulsion. “You’re going to have to speak up.”

Enough of your length buried inside his maw that your grasp was not required to steady it, the hand not keeping his jaw from snapping your cock into bloody pieces slid over his bruised cheek, threading in short blonde locks and giving extra stability to the wet hole you fucked with little tact or care. He kept it slicked back with obvious care to his appearance, but a few strands had fallen astray from the steady pace you now pushed his head forward with, meeting your thrusts halfway and causing him to occasionally gag as the tip of your cock met his uvula. 

He obviously wasn’t experienced in this regard, throat tensing and closing tight each time the intruder tried to breach into the slick, wet passage. Bitter precum coated his tongue and smeared against his lips, the blood inside his mouth lubricating your cock nicely as it dribbled down his chin with each harsher thrust. He choked and grunted with obvious anger and hatred for the demeaning use of his body, never stopping his attempts to escape your firm hold, and you finally began to grow impatient, teased with each little gag and half your cock receiving no attention due to the limited space. The hand threaded in his hair gripped tight and yanked his head back, a muffled grunt of pain slipping from Wesker’s throat as the position opened it nicely. 

Now was the perfect opportunity, and you took the perfect angle to slam your entire cock down his throat in one savage thrust, sharp keen breaking from your own the very moment Wesker’s struggling escalated to a fever pitch. He fought fiercely against the digit locked against his teeth, and you could feel his harsh bite break the skin of your finger, but it was quite preferable to where else the blunt outcroppings of bone could end up, his gagging and choking against your cock sending intense shots of pleasure through your limbs and moans of pleasure rumbling from your chest.

He couldn’t breathe, and tears stung at his eyes from the exertion, cock pulling from his throat only to slam right back inside. The tightness of his throat felt so fucking _good_ , and you couldn’t help but release the grip on his hair, replacing itself to his throat and squeezing to make that slick tightness even _tighter_ , pressing in so deep that his nose pressed flush against your pelvis. 

Wesker was held in that position for several seconds, and you simply relished in the contractions of his throat and his body’s frantic attempts to draw breath. You got so close to climaxing down that slick passage, simply allowing the pulsing of his throat to milk your cock to orgasm, the tensing and contracting of his chest and belly as he attempted to breathe and rid himself of the thick member preventing his relief. 

His mercy came in the form of your refusal to cum so early, realizing just how close you were as your balls tightened close to your body. You weren’t quite willing to finish up without any further exploration of his taut form, and your cock drew quickly from his throat and mouth, blood and spit flying from Wesker’s lips as he hunched over and coughed violently, drawing in deep, rasping gasps of air. 

It was such a lovely view, watching a dangerous and dominant man choking and wheezing because of your cock, blood covering the ground before him in a slick pool as several droplets splattered over the meticulous shine of his boots. You noticed then just how close he had likely been to vomiting, traces of bile evident as he hacked away to clear his abused throat. It seemed you pulled away at the perfect time - he held it down well, but also seemed very close to upheaving all over your cock.

His shoulders lifted and sank with pained breathing as you gently stroked your throbbing length, slick with precum and the spit and blood from Wesker’s mouth, allowing it to calm from the thorough arousal it had accumulated without losing the stiffness that caused the veins to pulse and throb with such intensity. 

“This is a good look for you,” You laughed to the disheveled man affront your form, his burning stare returning as he tensed with another violent cough. Wesker’s face was brightly flushed and damp with perspiration, loose strands of hair slicked to his forehead. “After so much shit you’ve put this entire damn world through, it’s about time you were taken down a peg, don’t you think? It’s only fair.”

“Say what you want, you cur,” As eloquent as ever, even while fighting off the humiliation of being used as a cock-sleeve just moments prior. His voice came out as even more of a growl now, the abuse of his throat leaving it bruised and damaged. “You are still beneath me, no matter _how_ you try and convince yourself otherwise.”

That was quite the way to put it.

You leaned forward towards Wesker, hand pulling his chin upwards to look you in the eye. “If I’m still beneath you, then we ought to find a way to remedy that, shouldn’t we?”

That same puzzled look crossed his face for a moment, but it wasn’t long before it was replaced by that same scowl, your footsteps traveling to his side as he leaned as far as possible to the opposite. The key to his cuffs hung to your belt, and the proper one is pulled forward to his left wrist, clicking inside the hole in the chilled metal to pull his arms free of their hooked position to the chair. 

As expected, he immediately took advantage of the temporary freedom to try and aggrieve you, but your anticipation made it easy to pull both arms behind his back once more, body pressing up against his as you forced him to stand, then practically collapsed atop him to use his unstable balance to your own advantage. He stumbled forward and then met the ground with a heavy _thud_ , your combined weight enough to rattle the walls around you and temporarily knock the wind from Wesker’s lungs. However, it proved far more difficult now to keep him under control, strength seeming to gradually return to his limbs as you stood as best you could manage, boot slamming down to pin the back of his neck as a pained grunt emitted from his chest in return.

One hand held tight to the cuff still dangling about one wrist, your pistol is wrenched from its holster, ensuring the safety was clicked off as you cocked the weapon and held the barrel to the back of Wesker’s skull. As predicted, his fight gradually dies down and stills to just the movement of heavy breathing once he realizes the exact position he has been forced into, head turned just enough that he could point that same fire-and-brimstone stare directly at you. Despite your obvious dominant position over the man, that damned gaze of his never failed to unsettle you, a constant reminder of his willing infection, and the tainted blood that ran through his veins.

Your tongue swathes over your lips, a hint of his bitter iron remaining on your flesh. You’d chosen to drink from a cursed pool, and only time would tell if there would be real consequence to your actions. As for now… 

Not allowing his unnerving features to dissuade you from your goals, you kept your finger firm against the trigger, heel removed from the back of his neck as he shifts to seemingly pop a crick from his spine, the most gentle sound of cracking bone possible pulled from his back as he contorted. Your breaths are soft, but also eager, the hand that held the cuff of his wrist dropped before you pull both back behind him, clicking the opened cuff around his opposite wrist to keep him from making any sudden moves, on the offhand chance that his full strength returned at the worst possible moment. 

Of course, he was weakened, but still very capable and well-trained. The last thing you needed was to explain to your superiors exactly how Wesker had escaped the compound, or to be found as a dying heap on the ground with your dick out, still wet with blood and saliva.

Wishing you had better restraints at hand, and did not have to rely on the gun to keep his body in place, your free hand reached below his belly as he, predictably so, arches away from it, allowing you to easily pull his body upwards and press his ass against your groin. He flinched away, but another pull on the pistol’s hammer was enough to remind him of who was now in control, disgusted huff pulled from his throat as his one retort. Wesker was obviously well-aware of what you planned to do to his body, and seemed repulsed by every little action of yours. 

Good. It would have disappointed you if he enjoyed this.

Leaning back, assured that your captive was properly restrained and held in place with the threat of a stray gunshot wound, you finally take your sweet time to look over Wesker’s body, the perfect curves and muscle that you’d never previously noticed. When facing down an enemy, you didn’t oft take the time to note just how physically attractive they were, but Wesker’s tight clothing and subdued position made that little detail slightly different this time, a hand pressing to the back of a thigh as he twitched from the unexpected contact.

His muscles were taut and firm, and his suit outlined every small curve very nicely, even if they currently blocked the view of his smooth flesh. A light chuckle bubbled from your chest, and your hand reached around his groin to grip at the clasp of his belt, leather strap pulled through the buckle to loosen the raiment around his waist. 

Wesker’s breathing remained surprisingly steady, and his eyes were now squeezed shut, only fluttering open for a few seconds at a time before they shut once more. Submitting was obviously not something he had ever willingly done, and your hand traveled to the hem of his trousers, pulling the fabric of his undergarments from the curve of his ass as your neglected erection throbbed at the promise of what was to come. 

Perhaps you had become a bit too complacent, especially once Wesker felt the disappearance of the cold gun metal from his flesh, or the reality of what was to come finally caught up with his serum-and-injury addled mind, but you didn’t quite expect any last hits from your _victim_. This bites you quite nicely in the ass as you brace your upper body over the top of Wesker’s back, chin dangerously close to the top of his head as he gives one final lunge upwards, skull cracking so fiercely with your jaw that your teeth snapped shut and wounded your tongue once more, blood dripping from your lips and falling across the back of Wesker’s shirt as stars swirled about in your vision. A chuckle comes from below, and you growl with renewed anger, hand slamming back atop Wesker’s skull as his cheek smashes into the concrete below, scraped flesh leaving a line of blood to stain the grey surface. 

That was, perhaps, just his one last little “ _fuck you_ ” to the entire situation, a promise that he would never entirely submit, no matter the scenario.

Quite snide. Such an action deserved the proper punishment, you felt.

That it did, and your nails dug into the flesh of Wesker’s hip as you spread him apart, thighs pulled open with a fair bit of struggle and making it far more simple for your cock to bury itself inside his unprepared hole, the tip giving one single sharp press against it. The tight flesh resisted as much as expected, but was quickly breached and slammed deep inside, buried to the hilt as your _bitch_ gave a sharp sort of noise that you never quite expected to hear from him. He quickly transformed it into a pained grunt as his muscles strained to accommodate the unwanted intrusion, unable to force it out and torn from the dry friction his lack of preparation caused.

The wet mixture of fluids previously gathered on your cock did him a fair bit of service, as you doubted he would have even taken it this well had you been entirely dry, and you smirked as a droplet of new red trickled down his inner thigh, cock pulled out halfway before slamming back deep inside his bowels. 

“Your blood should lube you up well enough, I think.” You voiced your thoughts as Wesker grunted from each new hammering thrust, clearly in far more pain than he was willing to display. His gaze is cast away, expression forced into one of never ending rage when it wasn’t contorted in discomfort. A growl slipped from your throat, hand sliding around his thigh to rub over his partially-obscured cock, unsurprised to find that he was only half-mast at best. This was quite obviously not at all for his pleasure, and you adored seeing his pain and discomfort, his hidden humiliation at being used like nothing more than a common whore.

“Nothing to say? You were more than willing to try and get under my skin earlier.” He huffed out a sharp breath as your thrusts increased in speed, gun held to the back of his neck as your other hand’s nails scraped down the exposed flesh of his thigh. There was enough blood and precum built up that your thrusts were quite smooth now, a mess of red splattered across your pelvis, and Wesker’s discomfort was practically impossible to place now. If anything good was to be said about him, he was quite the master of keeping his true thoughts hidden, even without his dark glasses in place. 

“It’s a lot harder to come up with something witty when being fucked into the dirt, isn’t it?”

You could’ve _sworn_ you caught Wesker’s eyes roll with that comment, but you proved your point by pulling out near to the tip and thrusting your cock back inside to the base, watching as Wesker’s teeth sunk deep into his lower lip to stifle any sort of incriminating noise. You’re close, very close, and it was almost a damned shame. It would’ve been quite the fun to see just how far you could push him, but it wouldn’t be long now until your shift was finally over, and the man beneath you would be transported to somewhere far more well-suited to keeping the damages down.

With that, you gave a few last jerking thrusts, watching as Wesker’s eyes widened momentarily before squeezing shut, the hot liquid that flooded his insides enough to shake him from his typical behavior for a single fleeting moment. His hands clenched and unclenched behind him, and his lower half shifted uncomfortably as you finally pulled your cock from his abused hole, deliberately drawing it out as slowly as possible to make him feel every little vein and ridge upon it. The seed that slid down his thighs was tinted a deep pink, mixing nicely with the blood from his ripped flesh.

You huffed with exertion, tucking your softening erection back to where it belonged, and moved to languidly stand before the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall made your eyes snap open wide, belt hastily re-buckled as you stood and dragged Wesker’s body up by the cuffs about his wrists. He grunted in response, obviously already feeling the soreness that throbbed within his lower half with no time to rest, but you ignored this in favor of hastily forcing him back into the chair he’d been previously cuffed to, his pants dragged up and belt redone in the hopes that the cum still dripping from his body wouldn’t show through the leathery fabric.

Handcuffs undone and reset in the position they’d previously been, glasses retrieved from the floor and shoved back over the bridge of his nose to cover his eyes, you take your position back towards the wall, knowing that your relatively rumpled states wouldn’t be… 

Well, there were far more important matters to attend to, and not even the blood smeared on the floor is questioned as the heavy metal door is finally opened, your relief ready to transport Wesker to a far more secure area. If they had questions about his mussed state, his bloodied lips and tousled hair, the remnants atop his boots and clothes, they deigned not to ask them, simply announcing their intentions as you saluted them in turn.

You stayed still as you watched the armed guards escort the man out, hardly even allowing yourself to blink as his stiff steps take him from the room.

It was a shame, you found yourself thinking, that you didn’t have just one more day of guard duty.

It was nothing you expected to ever ponder, but you felt it would be worth it. After all, the knowledge that Wesker’s heavy limp was due to being brutally fucked was quite satisfying, along with the single sharp glare he gave you as he disappeared from the compound.

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue: Then, after failing to realize that Wesker's blood is probably toxic because of all the viruses he's willingly pumped into himself, you either mutate into a horrible monstrosity or drop dead on the spot. The end.
> 
> Okay, seriously though, thank you for reading this fic! It got a lot longer than I expected, but I had a lot of fun with it, and it all amounted from the fact that I couldn't find any noncon stories out there where Wesker was the victim. He was actually really hard to properly portray as the victim, considering that he'd definitely never just roll over and submit to anyone, so I'm hoping I managed to do him justice. I just love seeing super dominant men get held down and forcibly fucked into the ground, and he fit that description very well. 
> 
> Spoiler alert, I'm also really fucking gross, and I almost made this story even worse. Be glad I stopped with the mention of bile and ALMOST puking. This is also the first fic I've written in... probably about four or five years? So, I'm a pretty rusty, but I had a couple friends beta for me and I edited the shit out of this thing several times, so hopefully it's a decent read. The fact that it's noncon and blood-kink related really summarizes me super well.
> 
> Be sure to leave a kudos and a comment if you liked it, or some constructive criticism if you have it! And, feel free to leave suggestions and prompts for any future fics containing this fucker, since I'm on a huge kick with him right now. Fetish-related, fluff, whatever - I'm always thirsty for ideas.
> 
> See you next story!


End file.
